


Crack of the Whip

by spowell Count Dracula series (SPowell)



Series: Count Dracula [27]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bondage, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Vampires, Werewolves, Whipping, blood-sucking, dark!fic, dub-con, enslavement, evil!Merlin, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Count%20Dracula%20series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promises are made. Arthur takes his punishment. A party on the horizon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crack of the Whip

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the abundance of errors and weak sentence structure in the last entry. I was in a terrible rush when I posted it. I've fixed it up.

Arthur fell against the wall, one hand to his throat, the other to his groin as waves of pain rolled over him.

The Count’s face was cold as marble as he took hold of Morgana’s hair and jerked her off Leander’s lap, throwing her onto the floor. Rather than cry out, she lay there laughing like a mad woman. Leander stood from his chair, licking her juices off his fingers.

Cenred appeared from the hallway, face a mask.

“Take her,” the Count ordered, gesturing toward Gwendolyn, who still sprawled lewdly on the sofa.

Cenred strode across the room and, yanking Gwendolyn up, hoisted her over his shoulder. He headed for the door, and Arthur fell to his knees, heart beating hard, his hand stretched outward toward Dracula.

“A Mea…please. Spare her life! She asked for none of this.”

Dracula stared at Arthur, blue eyes as frigid as an artic sky.

“She had the chance to leave, but she insisted on pursuing you. She continues to pursue you, and I will not have it!”

“I’m begging you not to take her life,” Arthur implored, his eyes never leaving the Count’s.

Dracula pressed his lips together. Finally, he sighed. “I will not kill her.”

Arthur let out the breath he was holding.

“I give you that promise, but you will never speak of her again,” Dracula said, voice steely. “It will be as though she never was. Give me your promise on this.”

Arthur swallowed hard. “I promise you, her name will never cross my lips again. Thank you, A Mea.”

The Count gave Cenred a nod, and Cenred left the room with Gwendolyn dangling from his back.

Leander held out an arm and Will immediately came to nestle underneath it, an adoring smile on his lips.

“Come, Pet. We will leave these two to their privacy,” Leander said. “Morgana?”

Morgana had stopped laughing and lay sprawled on the floor, one breast still exposed. Her gaze went from Leander to the Count.

The Count bent down and pinched her nipple cruelly. “There will be no more pets for you,” he said before slapping her hard across the face. The noise resounded in the room.

“Come,” the Count told Arthur before turning and walking away. It was with much trepidation that Arthur followed.

“In there.” The Count pointed to a room, and when Arthur went inside, he recognised it as the “play room” where he'd seen Elyan tied.

Dracula immediately clamped shackles to Arthur's wrists and hoisted his arms to the ceiling. Without once glancing at Arthur's face, the Count divested Arthur of his shoes and trousers and stepped back.

“I am going to whip you, Arthur. It gives me no pleasure to do so. What I am feeling right now, I cannot describe.”

The Count took a deep breath. “So that I will not, in my anger, flay the very skin off your flesh, I will leave to collect my thoughts before commencing with your punishment.” He abruptly turned and strode from the room, leaving Arthur hanging from the ceiling, naked from the waist down.

Hours passed. Arthur’s arms ached, and his head lolled heavily on his neck. It was cold in the room, and Arthur wore only his white shirt. As Arthur’s arms were raised above his head, the tail of his shirt rode up, revealing his cock and arse to the open air. His flaccid cock dangled against his thighs and his balls drew up to his body.

He twirled on his toes, mind returning again and again to what had happened with Gwendolyn. Once the Count had appeared, whatever had been drawing Arthur to her had ceased, as though abruptly snapped. Arthur suspected it was Leander’s doing; why the man seemed to hate Arthur, Arthur didn’t know.

After what must have been hours, the Count finally returned. He looked tired—haggard, almost. In his hand was a whip.

Arthur shuddered. He considered begging for leniency, but discarded the idea; deep down, Arthur felt guilty because even without Leander's help, a part of Arthur had wanted Gwendolyn. He accepted he was to be punished for his transgression.

Without a word of warning, the Count cracked out with the whip, the tip hitting Arthur’s hip bone. Arthur cried out at the sharp pain.

“Did she touch you?” the Count asked quietly.

“No,” Arthur said, trying to dance away from the next crack, which hit him on the arse cheek.

“Yes,” he amended. “I’d forgotten. Her hand-- cupped my…my crotch.”

Dracula growled and the whip came whizzing through the air again, cutting into Arthur’s tender ball sac. Arthur screamed in agony, throwing his head back and pulling at the chains.

"Did you want her?" The Count's eyes locked with Arthur's.

Arthur hesitated, and then told the truth. "For a...a brief moment, yes."

After that, it was one lash after another, until Arthur’s thighs and buttocks burned with searing, pulsating pain. Three more times the Count hit Arthur’s balls with the whip, bringing tears to Arthur’s eyes.

“Stop, please stop, A Mea,” he finally begged. Arthur’s arms had long ago lost all feeling, and he sagged in the chains.

The Count threw the whip aside and walked to stand before Arthur, his face solemn and his eyes wide. Arthur didn’t know what emotions he read there, but they were strong ones.

After a moment Dracula pressed an oddly tender kiss to Arthur’s lips. Reaching up, he released the chains and caught Arthur as he fell.

Dracula tended to Arthur himself, tenderly bathing him and putting salve on his wounds. Through his swoon, Arthur once thought he saw the Count’s bottom lip trembling, but told himself he must have been mistaken. Once he was tucked into bed, Arthur fell into a deep sleep from which he didn’t rouse until two days later.

Sitting at the dining room table with Leander occasionally smirking at him, Arthur avoided the man’s gaze and concentrated on eating the food the Count kept piling on his plate. His body was sore, but he felt better.

Will had obviously fallen into ill favour with his master, for he knelt naked at Leander’s feet with no morsels being fed to him.

Morgana and her two sisters were subdued until Gwaine announced he had a bundle for them waiting in their parlour, at which point they clapped their hands and hurried from the table. The Count paid no attention to any of this; he only had eyes for Arthur and how much food he consumed.

“We will be leaving for Leander’s castle in a fortnight,” Dracula announced when the meal was over and they lounged in the library with their coffee. “Saturday next I am hosting a party for the holidays. Arthur, I had planned to have you there as my blood-mate, but after recent events, I’m afraid I’ve changed my mind.”

“Will I be there as your pet?” Arthur asked, his cock stirring even as a blush climbed to his cheeks at the thought of experiencing that particular humiliation again.

“No.”

“Will I not attend, then?” Arthur asked, oddly disappointed. He would have liked to have been introduced as the Count’s blood-mate, but for lack of that, he thought that even being his pet would be better than being ignored.

“You will attend,” the Count told him. “Not as my blood-mate and not as my pet, but as my slave.”

Arthur stilled. Slave?

“What is the difference between a pet and a...a slave?” Arthur finally asked.

“Oh, there’s a world of difference, Arthur.” Arthur couldn’t help but notice that the Count didn’t use a term of endearment. Arthur had upset his lover greatly, even hurt him. He deserved to be punished.

“A pet is something one loves and cares for. A slave is not.” The Count looked straight into the fire when he spoke rather than at Arthur, and Arthur felt the loss even as his blood ran cold at what the words implied.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but since you have displeased me in such a manner that—try as I might—I cannot get over it quickly, I feel I must continue to chastise you. I have not been able to bear sleeping beside you since the incident. You will be sleeping in another room. From today until after the party, you will be my slave.”

Arthur had been aware that the Count had not shared their bed the past two days, but he had thought it had been out of consideration of Arthur’s weakened condition. To find out that it was due to the fact that Dracula could not stand to sleep next to Arthur after what Arthur had done, made Arthur want to weep with remorse.

The Count stood from the table. “Come. I will show you to your slave quarters.”

 

 

 


End file.
